


Of Sparks And Souls

by DuchessWinter



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, Giant alien robots are best Valentines, M/M, Nothing says 'cheesy' like Soulmate AUs, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, You are beautiful and deserve to be loved, happy valentines day, reader is gender-neutral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9770063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessWinter/pseuds/DuchessWinter
Summary: This is basically just a late little Valentines Day gift from me to everyone who likes reading Reader-Insert Transformer stories.I played around with the concept of Soulmates, because, well, what can be more cliche on V-Day than that? :DFew of the stories have mentions of Valentines day, but, hey, when you love someone Every day is Valentines day!





	1. Let's Talk About Holoforms

Hey there!

 

  
  
Just here to clue in those people who don't read my Megatron/HumanFem!Reader fic.

 _*cough* *cough*_ http://archiveofourown.org/works/7577329/chapters/17240554 _*cough* *cough* *cough*_ Shameless self-promo _*cough*_

 

Okay, so the most important thing is that the cybertronians in my stories can create holomatter avatars. It's a canon thing, I know that the majority of people who read Transformers stuff know what that is.

I just wanted to outline what a holomatter avatar is in my stories. Some of the sentences are direct citations of the TFWiki, Primus bless that wiki.

 

So.

 

What are they, exactly?  
  
Holomatter avatars are forms cybertronians could create using holomatter generators - miniature devices that could be integrated into cybertronian systems under their armor and that received input from both the bot's processor and their spark. Holomatter avatars can be intangible or as solid as a real object, but usually cybertronians use them in solid form. Holomatter avatars are usually used to create facsimiles of native species which are too small or fleshy for cybertronians to mimic with their mechanical altmodes. The avatar isn't just a friendly image to fool a species, it's also the cybertronian equivalent of a remotely operated vehicle, allowing a bot to go places and perform actions that would otherwise be prevented by their size and the need to camouflage their true identities. Having an avatar in a location is like the bot being there themselves. An avatar can function up to at least 400 miles away from the controlling bot, even when separated by solid walls.

  
  
Can they feel?  
  
Yes, they can. Basically every time they touch something/someone or something/someone touches them, the information about the amount of pressure/heat/various other factors is transmitted via wireless link to the controlling bot's processor, sending out the same signals they would feel in they were touched so. In simple words - Yes, they can feel. The sensation of taste, in this version, is similar to a human's not to needlessly complicate this little series of stories.

  
  
  
Why not use the avatar all the time?  
  
While the holomatter avatars have their advantages, the full sensory feedback is as much a good thing as it is a bad one. Holomatter avatars carry a strong connection to the consciousness of its generating bot. Damage to the avatar can cause severe impairment to the controlling bot if their consciousness is not withdrawn in time. Holomatter disguises are also limited by their operator's understanding of the lifeform they mimic, so, for example, the average Vehicon would find the process problematic.  
Most of all, however, the transfer of consciousness means that the real, cybertronian body is left vulnerable.    
Basically, it isn't worth it normally.

_Oh but to touch the cybertronian's human sparkmate? Oh I would think it would be worth it~ :D_

 

 

Also, in my stories, as a a holoform takes the form most natural to the bot with a correction on species, everyone can switch to their most natural small-sized avatar - that is, the cybertronian appearance. Because that's my logic. ~~And because I am an incurable robophile.~~

 

 

Sooo...yeah. That's about it. Stay tuned, I'll be posting throughout the day and I hope you enjoy!

Also, hope to see you in the comments! ;)

 


	2. Dear Doctor (Ratchet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your soulmate’s initials are imprinted on your skin at birth and the letters burn more intensely the closer you are to them and goes away when you touch. A person can also vaguely feel the direction they need to go in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this world, people get to experience some mild pain right before meeting their soulmate.
> 
> And then there's You. 
> 
> Man, your soulmate must be special for it to hurt this much.  
> Spoiler: He is.

 

In this world, people get to experience some mild pain right before meeting their soulmate.

 

  
  
And then there's _you._

 

 

The throbbing pain begins when you're about 70% finished with your exam and your eyes immediately dart to the inner side of your wrist where a single red 'R' is visible. The pain becomes more and more intense quickly and you realize that you have to get out of here, out of this auditorium, right now.

  
Giving the unfinished part of your exam only a brief look, you pick up the two sheets of paper and quickly run down the stairs to your professor. He gives you a surprized look - you are good, but not _that_ good to be finished this quickly. You - pale, frightened, excited and in pain - only waste enough time to put the papers on his desk, nod to your wrist and dart out of the huge room, and there is only a very vague sense of direction, but it's _there_ and the damn persistent pain is a sure enough way to know if you are following the sense correctly.

  
  
God, does it have to be this painful? Kinda ruining the exciting moment of being moments away from finding your soulmate.

  
  
You stormed out of the university building, the harsh sunlight immediately hitting your skin. You hated Jasper, Nevada for how hot it was here, you hated anyone who was involved in the University exchange program and messed up, registering you to this middle-of-nowhere hot-as-hell place instead of the planned destination that was Washington. Right now, however, you thanked whatever deities existed that you were sent here.

  
  
If only this DAMN thing didn't hurt so much!

  
  
You heard stories of mild pain, of stinging, of itching. Of course, _you_ were lucky and got stuck with 'someone is repeatedly stabbing me in the wrist' pain.

  
  
The streets were devoid of people, it was the middle of the workday, so you at least didn't have to make too much of an effort to hide your grimaces.  
  
_They have to feel it too,_ you think as you walk down the street at a quick pace, looking around for your also suffering soulmate and listening closely to your intuition. _Where are you, damn it?_

You'd think that with the next-to-nonexistent amount of people in the streets and the intensity of the pain you would have spotted someone in the same predicament. Should have taken that Soulmate-Alert bracelet with you, you chide yourself. Then again, you had a habit of never taking it with you. Guess looking closely it is, then.

  
  
By this point, it feels like someone jabbed a knife into your wrist and is now moving it around.  
  
"Fuck," you hiss under your breath, holding your hurting wrist with your other hand and clutching it to your chest. You turn a corner and pass a mother with a child, the lady smiling at you in endearment, recognizing your situation.  
_Oh yeah, isn't it cute how I'm in agony?_ you think, but something catches your eye.

  
  
An ambulance stopped for a red light on the nearest street corner.  
If they're not in a hurry, you could ask for painkillers! They have specific ones for situations like yours, where the pain is too much. They're not enough to take the pain completely away but enough to allow you not to burst into tears and scream.  
Just to take the edge off _,_ you repeat to yourself as you feel that your soulmate is somewhere very near. Just enough to keep you focused.

  
You quickly run up the car, having only maybe 20 seconds before the light turns to yellow and then green.  
Strangely, as you reach the car, you notice that nobody's inside it. Did the driver go into the back for some reason? Is there a patient in the car? No, the ambulance would have ignored the red light then.

  
"I'm sorry," you call out into the open window, trying to keep your voice polite even though it hurts like someone is cutting your hand off with a chainsaw by now. You feel tears in your eyes, "I'm sorry, but could you spare some pa-"  
"All out, let lost, I have places to be!" comes a dismissive, annoyed and strained voice from...somewhere. Your brain tells you that it could only come from the back, but your ears clearly heard it from the dashboard. Pain must be messing with you.

  
  
Even more importantly, what a dick move!  
You're already hurting badly, and this asshole just sends you off like that!

  
  
"You're an ambulance! How can you be out of painkillers?!" you lash out, the pain having chipped away at your self-control.  
"I. HAVE. PLACES. TO. BE. GO ON, GO AWAY! NGgghhh.."  
There's a low moan and you wonder if the driver is alright.  
"Hey, are you okay in ther-"  
While asking, you try to look into the car through the open driver's window and your good hand unclasps your wrist and touches the driver's door.

  
  
The pain vanishes instantly and, for a heavenly second, you feel nothing but relief.

Then, you feel a hell of a ton of confusion.

 

  
  
This is a car.  
  
_WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!_

 

  
  
You stare at the ambulance in shock and bewilderment and the man in the back is silent too, not a hiss or painful moan to be heard.  
  
"I think I have a question," you say, feeling really dumb.  
  
Silence. 

  
The car behind the ambulance signals and you flinch.

  
  
"Step back," you finally hear a quiet voice.  
You do as your told.  
The passenger door swings open and you get in even without the voice having to say anything. You're past the point of asking how the door opened by itself.  
"Are you hurt back there? Do I need to drive-"  
"I'm not _back there,_ " a grouchy and strangely worried voice replies but then sighs and adds more calmly, a bit melancholically even,"I will explain in a second. Put the seatbelt on."  
The moment you do, the ambulance lights come alive and the car takes off with a speed you wouldn't expect from this type of vehicle.

 

  
  
  
*****   A Year Later   *****

 

  
  
  
"Whoops!"

  
  
BADAM-BAM-TSS!

  
  
As you can feel the mech whose shoulder you were currently sitting on tense and inhale, preparing to shout, you turn your head towards the destruction and exclaim:  
  
"Bulkhead! Bumblebee! Ratchet needed that!"  
Your tone is spot on in parodying the medic and it makes both the wrecker and the scout laugh as they try and reverse the damage done. Alas, you cannot just stick two pieces of a datapad together and expect it to work again.

  
  
Ratchet exhales. His rage came quickly and went just as quickly, usually just leaving your soulmate grouchy.

Right now, you would estimate that he's not furious anymore, your actions having stopped him enough to take a breath, but he's still angry. He turns and looks at the green and yellow bots sternly.  
"I _did_ need that," he chides and rolls his optics as he sees the damage done to the poor datapad. Bumblebee makes a few electronic sounds in an embarrassed tone, his door-wings lowering a bit and Bulkhead gives an apologetic chuckle.  
"Sorry, doc," the wrecker says and the white &red bot scoffs.  
"Don't call me doc!"  
  
"Oh come on, you can see they're sorry," you chime in, making the medic look at you, annoyance still present in his bright optics, "Don't be harsh on the mechs, _dear doctor_."  
You throw him _a look_ , it's brief but it makes Energon flow to his faceplate and he quickly turns his head away from you, sounding both mad and embarrassed:  
"Et-Etttetet! I know what you're doing! Trying to get me to let them off easy!"  
"Whatever are you talking about?" you smile, scooching close to his head. Then, you throw the other two mechs a look and exclaim: "Run, you fools!"

  
  
It takes a second, and the two troublemakers are gone, leaving you and Ratchet alone on the base, with Optimus and Arcee having taken the kids to some teen concert.

  
  
You hear the mech sigh, turning his head to look at you again, one of his optic ridges raised.  
"Are you proud of yourself?"  
"I am," you give him a sly smile,"I have you all to myself now."  
With that, you lean forward, eliminating the remaining distance between you and placing a quick kiss on his lower lip. As you pull away, you see that the blue hue has returned to his face, nicely complimenting his optics. You smile in satisfaction as the medic closes his optics and coughs softly into his servo.  
"E-khem, yes, very clever, Y/n."

  
He then looks at you again and smiles genuinely, his usual demeanor falling to the side now that the two of you were alone.  
"I'll be done in a minute, sweetspark," he all but purrs and it makes your heart swell,"Then we'll make good on the alone time."  
He raises an optic ridge suggestively and it's your turn to feel your cheeks warm up quickly. Ratchet was a _very_ passionate mech once you got to know him.  
"Is that so?" you ask slyly, leaning closer to him again. He chuckles, turns his head and ever so gently presses his metal lips to the side of your head.  
"Yes. Now let me finish," he smirks and turns to the holoscreen, trying to resume his work.

  
"Oh but doctor," you say breathily, leaning to where his audial is,"But won't you give me some attention?"  
You know he's only updating his medical records on the team, so it's a task you can interfere with a little.  
"Soon," he says, his voice, however, betrays the fact that your words are getting to him. It makes you smile widely.  
Then, still sitting near his audial, you start to slowly unzip your hoodie.  
"Doctor, I think I have a fever. It's so hot in here..." you tease and he grumbles something under his breath in cybertronian. You can hear his digits typing faster."Hm? What was that?"  
"I said I'm not even in my avatar right now, what do you expect me to _do_ with you?"  
You chuckle at that. He's right, of course. But that won't stop you from teasing. The zipper of the hoodie slips open a bit more and he seems to press the wrong key.

  
"By the Thirteen, Y/n..."  
He turns his head to say something more and you sit a bit further away, 'innocently' offering the mech a view of your exposed collarbones and partially exposed chest. The medic seems to forget what it was that he wanted to say, his mouth slightly open. You add a final touch, bringing your wrist up to your lips and kissing the first letter of his name slowly while looking directly into his optics. You can hear him suck in air into his vents and you swear that the first letter of your name that is visible on his neck calbles glows for a moment.  
Without a word, Ratchet turns away from his workstation and begins walking to the room you now share, the scorching blue fire in his optics sending goosebumps up your spine.

 

  
  
Primus, let the others be away for as long as possible.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that Doc. He deserves so much love.
> 
> Soundwave is next :3


	3. Sing For Me (Soundwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can hear your soulmate's voice in your head, but only when they sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're 'lucky' again.  
> Because Soundwave doesn't even talk.
> 
> (I was basing my lyrics on this version of the song:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bbnSMyppmCY )

  
  
  
Soundwave would hear it now and again. A voice in his processor, a voice that captivated his usually mostly unfeeling spark.

  
  
It began not too long ago, maybe a Terran year or so.  
  
When he first heard the voice his spindly digits froze, hovering above the holokeypad of his workstation.

  
  
It was a quiet but upbeat tune with words sometimes uttered softly.  
He listened to it, postponing his thought process until after he had finished listening to the voice of his sparkmate.  
  
Then, when the voice in his head had gone silent, he tried to process the thought that, somewhere, he had a sparkmate.

 

He. A sparkmate.

In all these years of silence, Soundwave had grown adamantly sure that there was no such person for him.

 

  
Laserbeak felt and heard it, too. Still mounted on the spymaster's chassis, the Deployer was much more quick to react to the revelation. He wanted to be ejected and go search for the one who the voice belonged to. Were they on some other planet far away? On the ship? On the ground? Were they a Decepticon? Autobot? _Human?_  
  
Whatever they were, Soundwave was the Decepticon Communications officer, he had duties. A responsibility to his friend and lord. The search for a sparkmate and the subsequent relationship would be a distraction at least and a vulnerability at most.  
He wouldn't be the first or the last bot to choose his loyalty to the cause over his own supposed sparkmate.  
So he just continued working.  
Eventually, Laserbeak accepted that his master wouldn't do anything about the matter and calmed down, disappointed.

  
  
Since then, Soundwave would hear the voice often. He would sometimes wake up to it or fall into recharge while listening to it. He would, if he had the opportunity, pause his work to just listen. With time, he started imagining what the human was doing while singing or humming.  
  
Yes, his sparkmate was definitely a human.  
All the more reason not to search them out and engage.

 

  
But listening, listening he could do. He liked their voice. He liked it when it was soft, barely audible, he liked it when it was happy and upbeat, he even liked it when it was sad and melancholy, although the latter made the mech wonder what had saddened the creature that was supposedly destined for him.  
  
Soundwave was mech enough to acknowledge that he grew accustomed to the voice in his mind. He always enjoyed music so the mere fact that his sparkmate was singing for him(even if they didn't know he heard) seemed almost ironic. Had these been peaceful times, had he been a different bot, he would have liked nothing more than to be overjoyed and listen to his interplanetary sparkmate in his mind until he found them, and then ask them to sing for him while he could look at them. Perhaps, he would have even written music and a song for them to sing.  
  
But that was wishful thinking. Soundwave noticed that he seemed to be thinking about irrelevant, impossible things more and more often.

  
  
And now, a little more than a year after he had first heard the voice, he was laying in his berth, half in recharge already, when he heard his sparkmate's voice again.

  
  
_Oh, poets often use many words to say a simple thing_  
_It takes thought and time and rhyme_  
_To make a poem sing_  
_With music and words I've been playing_  
  
_For you I have written this song...._

  
  
He knew this one by now, the Communications Officer thought, it was 'Fly me to the Moon". Very fitting, it would no doubt lull him to recharge quickly.

  
  
_To be sure that you know what I'm saying_  
_I'll translate as I go along..._  
  
**_My soulmate never sings,_ **  
_And I don't know if they hear me~_

  
  
Wait, those are not the words. Did they-

  
  
_Won't they try to sing at least one note_  
_Or hum a movie theme?_  
  
_In other words,_  
_Are you mute?_  
_In other words,_  
_My name's Y/n._

  
  
They- _Y/n,_ they just up and switched the lyrics. Well, that is indeed an idea. It would have worked too, if Soundwave ever spoke. And if he was willing to seek out Y/n.

  
  
_Not sure if you hear me,_  
_You would have sang by now I think,_  
_But if you do, then listen here_  
_I'm bad at writing songs._

  
  
_In other words,_  
_(Country name)_  
_In other words,_  
_(Home Address)_

  
  
An address!  
He now knew where they were!  
He was instantly awake now, his spark pulsing wildly. It was one thing not to search for his sparkmate, it was another to _know_ where they were and choose not to go there. He could feel Laserbeak's insistance to just create a Groundbridge and go.  
The spymaster forced himself to remain in horizontal position and tried to calm his Deployer down.

  
  
_In other words,_  
_This is duuumb._  
_In other words,_  
_I waaas bored._

  
  
_Was so bored~_

  
  
  
Soundwave lay, unmoving, on his berth.  
No, _no._  
He would not. Even if it was a sparkmate. _His_ sparkmate.

  
  
Then, they began singing again, this time obviously for themselves, as their voice was softer and more thoughtful. It was a quiet ballad of sorts and by any logic it had to calm him down like such songs performed by his sparkmate always did.  
Not this time.

  
  
That night, on (Address), a shadow flew over houses and past Y/n's window as the human in question was too immersed in looking at their computer screen to notice it.  
It would be a week later when, walking home late at night, the human was abducted by Laserbeak and brought through a Groundbridge right to Soundwave in a matter of seconds.

  
As the shocked human in his servos looked at him, no doubt trying to process in their mind what had just happened, the spymaster leaned closer to them, savoring the opportunity to see his sparkmate so close. He held them with utmost care, he looked them over attentively - this was someone he wanted to see for a long time and someone his spark waited to meet since the day Soundwave came online.

  
...

  
They did not seem happy.  
Oh, right. They didn't know yet.

  
  
"Okay...okay," the human breathed deeply, probably trying their hardest not to panic, "I won't scream just yet...Hah...but I really need to know why I was abducted by aliens."  
  
It was a shame seeing them so unnerved. The situation needed to be explained.  
On Soundwave's mask, text appeared:

  
  
[Designation: Soundwave. Y/n's sparkmate.]

  
  
Confusion painted the human's expression. Then, realization. After that, doubt.

  
  
[Y/n's version of 'To the Moon' contained the address.]

  
  
"Oh," the human said softly, then looked down, then back up at him,"Never thought that this was the reason I've never heard my soulmate sing...Soundwave."  
The mech nodded simply, even though his spark skipped a beat at hearing his name said by the voice that he had spent months listening to and growing fond of.  
  


 

  
  
*****A Year Later*****

 

 

  
  
  
You were living a luxurious, yet very strange life now. 

  
  
You now lived aboard the Nemesis, in Soundwave's quarters, and the Communications Officer made sure you had everything you could possibly need.  
Near his berth there was a small table that served as your bedroom - and what a bedroom it was. Everything, _anything_ you wanted. A king-sized bed? There. A wardrobe filled with things you would never have afforded or dared spend your savings on? Check. A huge TV, gaming consoles, a stereo-system? The very best of them. You could think about something out loud, not sure if you really need i- Oh, it's already there the next day. Everywhere in the spymaster's quarters, there was a place suited to your needs. A couch, a desk, a chair and a computer near his workstation. A luxurious bath in his shower room.  
For such a seemingly emotionless mech, Soundwave knew how to take care of the few creatures he truly cared about.

  
  
You, Laserbeak, Megatron.  
His sparkmate, his symbiotic partner, his friend and lord.  
The trifecta of Soundwave's attention.  
Everything else might as well not exist as far as the spymaster was concerned.

  
  
Your soulmate was not just the quiet type, he was the king of quiet types. Despite that, since you've gotten to know him better, never once have you doubted his ever growing affection towards you. His body language, the way he held you, the way he strove to make you as happy as possible, the things he wrote to you, both via texts and on his mask - everything _screamed_ devotion without Soundwave having to even speak.

 

  
  
But speak he did.

 

  
  
You've both seen his face and heard his voice. On only a few occasions, though. The dark mech first showed you his face about half a year after your first meeting and, with time, you felt like the intervals between the times you saw it again were shortening. You hoped they were, you loved his face tenderly and your soul lit up every time you saw the unmistakable emotion in his optics. Gradually, you became more confident in asking him to show you his face. You still rarely did it, though, only in moments of deep emotional connection. Maybe that is why he obliged you every time.

  
His voice, however, you've only heard twice.  
The first time you heard his voice was the first time he told you that he loved you. The fact that the mech who usually never spoke chose to let you actually hear his confession was a gesture so thoughtful and trustingly tender that it still made your heart swell every time you thought about it.  
The second time was also a love confession, coupled with words describing how beautiful you were to him. You heard them when you two were intimate for the first time and, as much as his avatar's optics looked at you with love, you still weren't expecting it. When you kissed him after his confession, putting every bit of the love you had for him into the kiss, you couldn't help it that there were tears in the corners of your eyes.

  
  
Who _did_ vocalize his affection towards you often was Laserbeak.

The Deployer adored you, often escaping from the spymaster's chassis to go spend time with you. The bird-like metal alien would often want you to climb on top of him and take you flying and would lay at your feet after that, expecting to be petted with your soft hands.  
Soundwave once wrote that it was Laserbeak who was the first one to want to go find you. You had no trouble believing that, knowing how logical and in control your soulmate was and how honest with his emotions his Deployer has proven to be.  
You adored Laserbeak too, of course. He was like a twin to Soundwave and, even not taking that into account, he was a delight to have around. So you would often find yourself spending time with the Deployer, having fun or just hanging around, petting him or talking to him while he was perched nearby as you were doing something.

  
A year after first meeting both your soulmate and his symbiotic partner, you honestly couldn't imagine your life without them anymore. They were family.  
  
  
Soundwave seemed like a cold, emotionless, expressionless creature.  
Once you got to know and accept his way of expressing himself, he was anything but.

  
  
You loved him. And, the same way Soundwave did his best to express his fondness, you did all you could to be just as thoughtful.  
You took every opportunity to learn something about him, about the things he liked.

  
When you found out that the mech liked music, you would make it your task to find tracks or artists you thought he would like, sometimes even going to indie concerts to hear new artists in the genres he liked to be the first one to snatch songs that either weren't even available online yet or that were so obscure that the ever-busy mech wouldn't waste time searching for them.  
When you learned that he actually liked your habit of humming and singing while doing things and loved your voice, you thanked your parent for their decision to send you to vocal lessons when you were younger. It was an expensive affair in a world where there existed a possibility that one would hear their soulmate's singing voice in their head at some point in life, but, for you, it obviously was worth it and you would be forever grateful to your parent. You would often hum and sing for your mech, whether to make his worktime more pleasant or entertain him in his free time. You knew the songs and melodies he liked and, by now, you knew which ones to sing at the right times.

  
With time, you learned of the ways he liked to be touched, both while in his natural body and while in a holomatter avatar. Being a silent and distant mech for most of his life, the amount physical contact meant to Soundwave was indescribable. When he touched you, it carried with it everything he wanted you to know about his feelings. When you touched him, he was so sensitive to it that it was the most endearing thing in the world for you.  
You would affectionately stroke his long, spindly digits when you wanted to soothe him and remind him how you loved him, occasionally adding a kiss to the cool black metal, making the digits flinch lightly at such a tender display of love.  
When he was in a holomatter avatar, you didn't pass up any opportunity to touch him the way you knew he liked, whether the avatar's appearance was human or his natural one. From innocent touches such as tracing your fingertips up and down his arm to touches that made him gasp _absolutely deliciously_ in moments of passionate intimacy, you were happy to show Soundwave how much he mattered to you.  
The spymaster was quick to remind you that he loved you no less with touches of his own, each of them making your heart flutter and your thoughts go hazy.  
  


 

  
So here you were, in your 'bedroom', your huge bed behind you and your floor mirror in front of you.  
It was Valentine's day and Soundwave had invited you to a classical music concert. Add that to the bouquet of your favorite flowers that you saw on your nightstand and a beautiful set of back-and-purple evening clothes that you found on the empty side of the bed (when Soundwave _did_ stay in your bed for the night, he would always quietly leave to do some work early in the morning, but not before kissing you goodbye first) when you woke and you had the recipe for a wonderful mood right there.  
  
You looked yourself over in the mirror while unconsciously humming your favorite melody, a melody Soundwave himself had recently composed for you.

Hair, face, clothes, shoes. Everything seemed to be okay. Beautiful even, if you dared say so yourself. What brought the whole look together, undoubtedly, was how you seemed to practically glow from the quiet happiness that you felt in your soul.

  
  
  
Gods, how you loved Soundwave.

  
  
  
As if summoned by your very thoughts and voice, a very tall yet still human-sized cybertronian figure appeared right behind you and gently hugged you from behind. Leaning back into your lover, you put your arms on top of his, caressing the metal affectionately and closing your eyes with a quiet sigh of delight.

  
  
"You look divine, my love," you hear his quiet, reverent voice above your ear and your breath hitches. Your eyes snap open just in time to catch a glimpse of his optics before they become eyes the next moment. Slowly turning around in the spymaster's arms, you let your hands slide up his chest and around his neck while you look into his eyes lovingly, making sure he knows exactly how much his words and his voice mean to you. He, in response, hugs you tighter with his now much softer 'human' arms, pressing you to him firmly.  
  
A moment later, Soundwave leans down and catches your lips with his and you don't wait for even a heartbeat before kissing back. Gentle at first, the kiss slowly becomes more and more sensual, making a wave of happiness wash over your soul from the intimacy.  
Soundwave knows you well, he knows when you would need air but he also knows how much you love to kiss him for as long as possible. He also probably wouldn't be able to force himself to pull away a moment too soon, he loves your lips too much. So when does pull away, you're both slightly dizzy and need to take a breath. You - to actually breathe, he - from the sheer power of the emotions that you cause him to feel.

  
  
As you look at each other with adoration, you caress the back of his neck tenderly and say, your voice gentle:

  
"I love you so much, Soundwave."  
You place a light kiss on his lips right after that and he sighs quietly, happily into the kiss, sending you heart aflutter. 

 

  
  
Gods, how you loved him.  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for Soundwave, can you tell?...  
> Also, even Soundwave confesses with his voice and not via texts. Be brave like Soundwave, kids, such a moment must be shared in person if possible. You can also immediately smooch your SO that way ;D  
> Also-also, I didn't describe Soundwave's face on purpose because everyone imagines it differently. If everything worked as it should have, your imagination should have filled in the gaps...I hope ;)
> 
> Next up - Arcee!


	4. Stay Safe (Arcee)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a tattoo of the first words your soulmate says to you in their handwriting.

 

Jasper, Nevada.

  
A little town with nothing but sand and boulders and cliffs around.

  
  
You were here finally, having endured hours of travel, and your childhood friend didn't yet know you were in her town.  
Earlier today she called you and cried and screamed and laughed as she told you that her soulmate proposed to her.  
Sure, it was expected for soulmates to marry each other, but it was ultimately up to the couple to decide if and when they wanted to through with a traditional celebration.  
Your friend, well, that was her dream since childhood. She was the type who, when she was younger, made scrapbooks containing everything she'd want to be there on her wedding day.  
The same scrapbooks that you earlier picked up from her parents' house and now had in your bag.  
  
Thing was, her soulmate contacted you in advance, offering you to come over and double the amount of joy your best friend could experience in one day.

  
  
You were there when they first met. It was a magical experience, even your cynical brain couldn't argue with that.

  
  
You own mark, well... _You_ could read it. Others couldn't.  
The words above your left collarbone looked like an intricate tattoo to an artistic person, Chinese or Korean hieroglyphs to a very ignorant person and just very, _very_ interesting to an archeologically-inclined person.  
Your parents tried to research whatever it was that was written on your skin when you were born but to no avail. When you tried to do so yourself, the internet having developed as rapidly as it did, you learned that something of a similar writing could be found on some ancient artifact in a museum in Greece of all places.  
  
Since you found out, you have gone Greece five times. You were at that damn museum every day, looking at the artifact, trying to ask around about it, talking to the English-talking professors around or just sitting there looking at it, wondering what the golden orb had to do with you. And why it felt like you needed to be near you soulmate, like a feeling of dread when you know your loved one is in trouble.

But nothing happened in Greece. Finally, you decided that enough was enough. You weren't originally overly enthusiastic about going to extreme lengths to find a soulmate, preferring to think that if one existed for you then they'd turn up sooner or later. Or maybe not. You weren't terribly concerned, at least not at this point in your life. You had things going on, things to learn, places to travel to, BFFs to congratulate.

You only hoped that wherever your soulmate was, that they were safe and well, that your worries were just tricks of your imagination. You hoped that maybe, if you failed in finding them, maybe they would find you.

 

  
Still, you couldn't argue that the hieroglyphs looked beautiful. A deep sapphire blue color, with the edges written sharply. The words themselves were lovely too.

You couldn't imagine someone walking up to you and saying 'Thank you for the rose, Y/n', so were you the one to make the first step? Seemed so. Knowing that, you had a cautious relationship with roses. You preferred to give people their favorite flowers. Roses were your mother's and your BFF's favorite flowers, you didn't like to give those to anyone else. What's more important, a _single_ rose. You usually congratulated with bouquets. So you had no idea how that would happen as you made a rule for yourself to never give out single roses as gifts to avoid confusion.  
  
  
  
You chased the thought about your mark away as you approached the school both your friend and her fiance work at. He proposed in the morning(romantic breakfast and all) and you decided to let her finish teaching grade-schoolers in peace before surprising her.  
So there you were, nearly the school's steps. You friend's childhood scrapbooks in your bag guaranteed a fun and heartwarming evening, and the beautiful bouquet of different color roses was a surefire way to make her tear up as soon as she saw you.

  
  
As you drifted out of your thoughts, you noticed something reflecting the afternoon sun's rays.  
Oh well isn't that a beautiful motorcycle? The color was strangely famili- Wow, it was _exactly_ the color of your soulmate mark!  
Taking out your right earphone, you're about to ask the teenager that's standing next to it if he knows who the bike belongs to.  
  
"-and, Arcee, it's _Sierra,_ I wanna impress her! Huh?..."  
  
He turned, noticed you and there's panic in his eyes for a few seconds. You could't help but chuckle at the situation. You were not old by any means, but you were older than this guy who seemed...Fifteen? Sixteen? So he probably thought you were going to bust him for blowing off school.

  
  
  
"So did you skip class to yell at the bike?" you quipped. You just couldn't help yourself.  
"I, eeh..." the boy scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously, "It was an emergency?"  
You smiled and raised an eyebrow. He blushed. Oh, that's just cute.  
"Tell you what," you made a little movement with your left shoulder because your collarbone suddenly itched,"I'm actually on my way to see one of your teachers and your principal. But you tell me who owns this beautiful motorcycle here and I won't tell anyone you prefer to share stories about your crush with two-wheeled vehicles."  
The guy's face changed nine different ways in three seconds. There's the fear of his principal, there's the embarrassment of being caught outside of school during class, there's a whole different kind of embarrassment when you mention his crush, there's some kind of other fear there, he's blushing from shame, he's blushing from looking at you(he might be discovering that he's bisexual at this very moment)- The poor guy, you've caught him completely off-guard and he's sad to look at. Also, extremely very funny to look at.

  
  
"I do! I-I mean, no one _owns_ her, but- I mean, she's my motorcycle, 'it', I mean, it's my-"  
"Woah there," you chuckled, "I already know you call your bike by name. Arcee, was it? It's okay, many folks name their cars and bikes."  
"Y-Yeah..." he agreed, took a breath and got a grip. You could only admire how fast he recovered, stuck his hands into his pockets and looked at you with a bit of worry, but mostly calmly."Soo...you won't tell Principal Wilson?"  
"No. But if you want to skip class so much, fake being sick or something. Or go watch a movie. Hanging out in front of the school while you're skipping it is not the best strategy, Sierra will think you're stupid," you chuckled, remembering all they ways you skipped school back in the day.  
As the teenager blushed slightly, you decided to go easy on him.  
"Say, what's Sierra's favorite color?"  
"Huh?"  
"Don't you know? Come on, she's your crush-"  
"Soulmate," he corrected, his voice both excited and terrified, "But she just transferred and we didn't want it to get weird, so we're trying to do things as if we weren't soulmates and-"  
"Stop," you said as you put your free hand on your hip, trying not to roll your eyes at Awkward-Teenage-Problems-Central over here,"I asked a simple question. What is her favorite color?"  
"Eeh, peach, I think," he answered, confused, his blue eyes surprised, "Why?"  
"Well then, I guess you're in luck. Now," you said, picking out and handing him a rose that might as well have been carved from a peach, if one were to judge by color, "Here's an opportunity to start with small cute things. That is, if you're man enough."  
While he looked at the fresh, beautiful flower in his hand and mumbled what you can only assume are words of gratitude, you realized that your little stunt caused a problem.

  
There's an even number of roses in the bouquet now. And your friend is Russian, they have strong opinions on these things. Uneven for celebrations, even for funerals. Yeeah, could turn out awkward.  
"Say, where can you buy paint like that?" you nodded to the motorcycle, taking the conversation full circle to the topic that made you come up to the guy in the first place.  
There was just...something about it. Not just the color, too. You couldn't quite put your finger on it. It made an impression no doubt, looking both beautiful and powerful. You only hoped that the teen would be careful while driving something as serious as this....Was it bad that you were slightly more concerned for a motorcycle then for a kid for some reason?  
As he mumbled something about how the bike was a gift and that he didn't know, you looked at your bouquet and suddenly had an idea.

 

 

 

*******

 

  
  
  
Arcee had been through much in her life.

  
She was a warrior, one of the best, and where her comrades would use their size to their advantage she was the specialist when it came to stealth and speed. She was also an expert close-quarter combatant. And an outstanding shot. And good at driving.  
  
She was capable and she used her talents well, helping Optimus Prime and the other Autobots in the war.

 

 

  
There, however, had a secret.  
  
It was a well-kept secret Arcee never shared with anyone. Mostly because those who she was close enough to that she considered sharing it with them died before she had the opportunity to do so.  
  
And, at those times, her secret became even more relevant, an even more important part of her.

 

  
  
  
Arcee had a sparkmate mark.  
No one knew.  
She had told everyone that she never had one and, as it was a fifty-fifty chance to be born with one, no one doubted her words.  
It was better like that. Safer. Calmer.  
It was easier not to think that she had a sparkmate somewhere. Not in these times.

  
  
But she had one.

And she had a mark to prove it.  
It was on her right servo, right in the center of her metal palm.  
She had to touch up the permanent paint on it from time to time to make it blend with her natural metal because even permanent paint didn't last well in the harsh conditions of war. But if she turned her servo _just so_ and the light hit it _just right_ , she could see it still.  
And, deep in her spark, she was scared that one day she wouldn't be able to see it even if she took the darkgrey paint completely off with acid.  
She tried to prepare herself for that. That, one day, the words would be gone. That this little link tying her to someone in the universe would be severed.  
  
  
She didn't know what she would do then.  
Since the war began, in moments when the horrors of war were too much, when she felt like there was nothing she could do, she would always do the same thing.  
She would wait for the mission to end, go find a secluded place, sit down. Turn her servo _just so_ , let the light fall _just right_. And she would read the three words over and over again.

 

  
_'Stay safe, Arcee'_   was once written on her palm in a comforting (eye/color) color.  
She would hear those words many times during the war, but she had no idea who and under which circumstances would make those words their first ones when meeting her.  
What would they be like? Caring, probably, if this was what they would say to her before anything else.  
A medic, maybe?  
  
She tried not to think about it.  
But she still would find comfort that somewhere there was someone who would have cared for her. Would have loved her. Who was destined for her.  
Too bad she was at war.

 

  
  
When Tailgate was offlined by Airachnid right before her optics, she felt something in her snap, leaving a gaping, eternal wound. She was unable to save her friend, her partner.  
When Bumblebee and Cliffjumper freed her, she didn't feel she deserved to still function while Tailgate was...was-

  
She doesn't know for how many night cycles after that she would just stare at her servo whenever she had the chance. She turned her servo _just so_ , tried to let the light fall _just right_ so that she could make sure, over and over again, that the words were still there. Each time, it felt like someone was telling her to stay safe when she herself didn't feel that she deserved to be careful with her life.  
Optimus would talk some sense into her eventually, let her realize that her survivor's guilt was natural, but very, _very_ dangerous and that her spark is no less precious than Tailgate's was. Most importantly, would Tailgate have wanted to see her like that? No, no he wouldn't. Right, he wouldn't. So she had to try and be careful, be safe.

  
  
That's right.  
_Stay safe, Arcee._

  
  
The kind Autobot commander didn't know then, but he was aided by the fact that Arcee would wake up and go into recharge looking at the words on her palm for months after the tragedy. She would look at it in her moments of distress, of uncertainty, of grief. The words would make her stop and think, if only for an astrosecond, when her emotions and her daring, sometimes even brash nature urged her to _just go, jump into battle and let it all be damned._

  
  
She didn't want to think about how many times that mark may have saved her life.

 

  
  
Once on Earth, she found that the permanent paint didn't want to stay so permanent anymore. Had to be the climate.  
Now, once in a few days, she would catch that original (e/c) color on her servo. The process of painting it every few days made her feel like she was some kind of pre-war beauty-femme, fussing around with her paint job.  
  


  
Then, Cliffjumper died.  
  
Cliffjumper died and once again there was _nothing_ she could do.

  
  
It was all too much, too fast, none of them had time to mourn, to grieve. Dark Energon, a Spacebridge, Terrorcons, human children- There was _no time_.  
There was no time, no opportunity to fall apart.  
A look to her right servo made her glad she didn't get the opportunity to paint the mark over that day.  
Right.  
Blow up the Spacebridge, stay safe.  
  
  
After that, she didn't bother to waste any more paint.  
The words, written in handwriting so familiar by now that it could as well be her own, became her anchor once again.  
She gradually accepted Cliffjumper's death, even if it was still a topic that made her spark burn painfully, making her want to just go to the nearest Decepticon mine and start blasting and kicking mechs as long as her body would have let her.

 

  
Now, when things were mostly back to normal, she only sometimes threw a glance onto her palm, usually when she woke up and before missions. For good luck. To remember not to make stupid decisions.  
If her teammates noticed, they were polite enough not to point it out. She was especially thankful for that because she was perfectly aware by now that the language her mark was written in was one of Earth's many languages.  
  
  
  
  
She was currently in her altmode, observing a human who came up to Jack with a question about her.  
They seemed friendly, but the femme still looked them over attentively. The color of their eyes was strikingly similar to the color of her sparkmate mark, she realized. Then again, humans were diverse when it came to eye- and hair colors.  
The human looked at her after a while and their eyes once again reminded her of the thing that she considered her good luck amulet by now, her sparkmate mark. Their eyes were kind, curious and a bit worried. They looked at Jack, who was in a kind of stupor as he was trying to decide whether he should heed the stranger's advice or not. Then, they looked back at her.  
Oh, she understood what was going on. Jack was not yet considered an adult. The human was probably worried that Arcee was something too dangerous for him to drive....At least, the femme had a feeling that that was probably the emotion behind the human's eyes.

 

  
Her mark itched.  
Damn it with all this dust from the desert, and when she was in her altmode, too.

 

  
And the human was still looking at her. Their thoughtful gaze made her nervous for some reason.  
Then, they did something unexpected.  
They looked back at the bouquet that they were holding and, after a moment's consideration, carefully took out a white rose.  
  
"May I?" they asked Jack as they held the flower closer to her.  
"Eeh, why?" the boy was clearly not on his A-game today, reaction-wise.  
"Well she's a girl, right? I'm not one for gender stereotypes, but wouldn't it be nice for her to have one too? She is very beautiful after all."  
They chuckled, clearly playing up the whole 'sentient vehicle' thing.  
Jack looked at Arcee and burst out laughing.  
"Sure, go ahead! She loves flowers!"  
She had never in her life gotten flowers.  
"She's also extremely emotionally sensitive and cries at the end of the Titanic!"  
_Damn it, Jack!_ You just had to start talking scrap. She hadn't even watched Titanic.  
The little scraplet will pay later.

  
  
Her angry thoughts were interrupted by the human ever so carefully placing and fastening the rose behind her windshield. Her olfactory sensor immediately picked up the fresh, slightly sweet scent of it.  
The human smiled and she wasn't ever given flowers before and frankly found the tradition silly, but that smile made her want to know who this human was and what they were about.

  
  
Then, the school bell rang. Not a minute later, the school doors opened and kids flooded the street.  
"Well, have to go," the (e/c)-eyed human smiled at Jack, "Good luck with Sierra."  
"Thanks," the boy nodded, smiling back, "And thanks for the, eh, flowers."  
"Yeah, I guess I'm the Flowerfairy today," they smirked,"Drive safely, okay? Oh, and your friend here too-"  
They laughed quietly, looking at her, not suspecting a thing.

 

  
"Stay safe, Arcee."

 

  
  
With that, they quickly went towards the entrance to the school, soon disappearing.  
  
Arcee was quiet for the rest of the day.  
  
She came up to Ratchet to ask him to equip her with a holomatter generator the next day.

  
  
  
  
It wasn't too hard to find them.  
It was hard to be so damn slow in a human avatar.

 

  
  
The plan was simple. Go up to them, say the first thing that pops into her head, learn if this was all a misunderstanding or not, confirm that it, indeed, was just a coincidence, continue with living live normally.  
  
She couldn't quite say when was the moment when her wanting to come up to them in the town park turned into her stalking them. Habits die hard, she guessed, and she was an expert in stealth, even though her current body was all soft and unfamiliar.  
When they stopped at the fountain and dipped their fingertips into the water, seemingly thinking about something, the femme wasn't sure what she should do now. How did normal humans act?  
She stood under a tree, leaning onto it with her back, her arms crossed, her head turned 45° away from them, enough to watch from of the corner of her eye, hopefully not enough to seem like someone who was interested in them.

  
F/n L/n.

...  
  
What was she doing? She should just go and get it over with!  
  


  
Turning her head, she realized that Y/n was looking at her. It was a curious glance, not more. But her fight or flight instinct had set in immediately and Arcee never picked flight.  
So she balled her fists and started walking towards the human.

  
  
First words on her mind. Do and go.

 

  
Obviously surprised, they watched her approach. She walked up to them, looked them in the eyes and...  
  
Scrap, why didn't anything come to mind?  
  
Their expression softened. A second later, they chuckled, completely catching her off-guard.  
"I'm sorry, miss," they gave her a wide, friendly smile, "You look like you're angry at me for something, but I swear, I see you for the first time in my life."  
  
_But you don't see me for the first time,_ Arcee though.  
That should have been what she said! Okay, think of something else, anything else-  
  
She was a battle-hardened warrior, why was this so slagging difficult-She couldn't even-Just pick a topic-Altmodes-Plasmarifles-Scrapscrapscrap-Music-Arts-Explosives-Sabotage-No-Herself-Them-There was a rose-  
  
  
"Thank you for the rose, Y/n," she heard herself say before thinking it over and Y/n's chuckling immediately ceased.  
Looking her over with seriousness in their eyes, they slowly raised their hand to their shirt.  
"I sincerely hope," they said slowly, not taking their eyes off hers, "That you can explain where this writing is from?"  
  
As they revealed their collarbone to her and the color of her own armor caught her eye immediately, she felt that she was both scared and indescribably happy at the same time.

  
"I can," she promised, "I will."

 

And she will do absolutely everything in her power to protect them, Arcee promised herself.

 

 

  
  
  
*****   A Year Later  *****  
  


 

 

You laugh as your soulmate easily makes you trip and collapse onto the bed, but not before you catch her arm, bringing her down too.

  
  
"Well, technically that was my win," Arcee states as she looks up at you, her human holomatter body on top of yours, "You hit the bed first."  
"How did you manage to make the activity of 'sleeping in' a competition, a fighting one at that?" you raise your eyebrows in both bewilderment and amusement and she just smirks.  
  
"You're just too lazy," she explains while her piercing blue eyes look over your face, neck, and chest adoringly, yet playfully.  
You liked when she was like this, happy and lighthearted. Long ago, you made it your goal to try and carefully, gradually heal the wounds on her spark, if at least a little.  
Moments like these were proof that, somewhere along the line, you managed to do something right.

  
  
"You're looking at me like that again," Arcee's voice pulls you from your thoughts and you chuckle, shrugging.  
"Well that's your fault, isn't it? You're irresistible when you're a femme, you're irresistible when you're a woman, what am I to do?"  
"Learn to fight better," she smirks and covers your face with a blanket, but you see that your words had flattered her.  
"I'm already top of my self-defence class! Besides, you're the aggressive one in this relationship, I'm the cool Zen one," you lift the blanket only to get caught by the - now alien femme's - gaze. Her eyes are indescribable, like nothing you've ever seen, even among other Autobots. Icy blue with outlines of magenta.  
"So _I'm_ the aggressive one?" she asks, her tone dripping sarcasm.  
"When have I've ever been aggressive?" you innocently look at her and she rolls her optics.  
"I don't know, maybe when you hijacked the Apex armor that one time _yesterday?_ "  
"Well that was against the 'cons and would you have preferred that a hyperactive Japanese girl wore it?" you chuckled,"Besides, I was happy to help you out a little."  
She sighs and lifts herself on her elbows, looking at you sternly.  
"You need to be careful. I need you to be careful."

  
And she knows that you understand what she means. You know about everything she has been through, all the pain, all the strength needed to come back from that. You know what she fears the most.  
You raise your hands and trace both sides of her faceplate with your fingertips, the smooth silver metal seeming so familiar and perfectly natural to touch by now. Her eyes narrow a little. You know that soothing touches alone won't calm her doubts, even if they do a great deal of good.  
"I know, Arcee, I know," you assure her and you're honest. You respect her too much as both a soulmate and a warrior to dismiss her concerns, be they logical or emotional. She sighs, closing her optics and the mood changes to a quiet, relaxing one.  
"Come," you gently pull her down to let her rest her head on your chest. She changes form mid-decent, always cautious not to hurt or inconvenience you with her metal parts. As her head rests on your chest, she takes a deep breath and relaxes, hugging you tightly as you stroke her short midnight blue hair, then her shoulder, then her side, then make you way back up.  
"Just don't do anything stupid," she sighs quietly and you want to joke, but you don't because you can hear it in her voice that she needs to be sure, especially now, when things are getting so intense with the Decepticons.  
"I won't," you promise as you always do, then kiss the top of her head. She sighs contently.

  
  
It has taken her some time to be able to let herself relax like this in your arms, but now you can feel how much she grew to rely on it.  
Arcee is an outstanding fighter, an incredible shot and the most skillful bot on the team when it comes to stealth. She can transform in midair in a matter of a couple of seconds, perform acrobatic feats you would have thought were impossible for things made of metal and often was the fiercest one on the battlefield.  
And you always felt so proud to have such a soulmate and strove to make her life better as much as you could. Often it would involve emotional council, something you were good at, sometimes it would mean that you just needed to give her more physical contact as assurance that you were, in fact, near her and everything was alright. You were always generous when it came to Arcee, everything you could give her was hers to take. You offered her all of your care, all of your love, every loving word and every affectionate touch.

  
And she, oh how she loves you for everything you are.

 

You can see the emotion in her big blue eyes everytime she looks at you, every time she says, instructs and straight up commands you to never, ever put yourself in danger.  
She understands all too well that with the current situation it's impossible. But you still promise her you won't. You are the one to remind her to _stay safe_ every time she goes on a mission, and she likes to hear her good luck charm said in your voice.  
She loves you like tomorrow could never come, like every kiss and every 'Goodnight' is the last one. She makes love to you like the Apocalypse is on your doorstep, wringing every last gasp and moan from you and giving all of herself back. She never, ever goes into recharge if you had a disagreement and didn't yet settle it, the anxiety that she may never have the opportunity to make good by you making her want to guard you throughout the night even if she's mad at you.

  
But you never let her.  
Because you never allow yourself to go to sleep without first soothing you soulmate.  
  
Whatever it is, it's not important enough to lose sleep over, you tell her.  
Even if I'm mad at you at the moment, that still doesn't change that I love you, you tell her.  
Even if you're mad at me at the moment, I won't hate you for it. Because I love you.  
You can go to sleep because nothing between us is broken, you don't have to worry, you tell her as you kiss her palm, your lips touching the words written in your handwriting.

  
  
At first, it took hours to push back her anxiety.  
Now, it takes minutes, familiar touches and words lulling her to sleep, leaving her well-rested in the morning, ready to face whatever the day holds.

  
  
  
Like today, today she woke up full of energy, already managing to send you face, then butt, then back first onto the bed.  
Top of the class in self-defence has nothing on a cybertronian soldier with hundreds of years of experience, after all.

 

  
  
You chuckle.  
"What?" Arcee asks, raisnig her head and looking at you with those unbelievable eyes of her.  
"Remembering how you sent me flying aft-first onto the bed," you smirk.  
"I did, I like that part too," she chuckles.  
"By that part-"  
"Don't-"  
"Do you mean-"  
"Y/n."  
"My aft?"

  
  
You smile slyly and she rolls her eyes, then throws her arms around you, and presses her lips to yours, smirking into the kiss.

"Yes, Y/n, your aft is amazing as is every part of you."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really feel for Arcee in TF:P, she really lived through some horrible stuff. Experiencing the same crippling trauma two times is a nightmare. She deserved so many cuddles :'(
> 
> Do you know who's next?  
> Do you?
> 
> Megatron.  
> Whoo boy. Get ready.


	5. Hush, Sleep (Megatron)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you sleep, your subconscious takes over and tries to make you go in the direction where your soulmate is.
> 
> (This chapter is heavily inspired by the ending of the TFP series and how we last saw Megatron there. So this will be a bit different.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A TWITTER NOW.
> 
> https://twitter.com/WD_Storyteller
> 
> I don't know why I need it, but I guess I'll post there when I publish chapters and when I have stupid thoughts :D You can also read about what goes on in my mind while I write.
> 
> UPD. This had to go up 4 and a half hours ago. But, you know, when your friend calls an 'emergency' meeting because 'he said I said that he said but I didn't say', you drop everything, throw off your 'at home' pants and go to them together with your other two friends. I'm back now and I still have UYA to edit. Damn it all to the pits.

  
  
  
When you first woke up outside your house, your bare feet tickled by the cold dewy grass, you were - naturally - shocked.  
You were shocked also because that you've never in your life had this happen to you, until now you thought that you were (un)lucky enough that the soulmate thing didn't affect you.  
But apparently, it did.  
  
  
You were happy that your friends asked you to homesit while they were away on a prolonged business trip because the house surrounded by fields and young forests was a relatively safer place than the middle of the city. You wanted to tell your parent or some of your friends of your situation, but you knew that - it being summer - your parent was far away on vacation and your friends were also away. So there was no point in worrying them.  
You tried locking the doors and tying your foot to the bed even though it was a fact that those kinds of things didn't work on the soulmate-sleepwalking phenomenon.  
It was a very specific condition, and the sleepwalker would behave as if they were awake, avoiding danger and taking smart routes, but always, always determined to get to their soulmate, feeling the soulmate bond's pull.

  
  
Still, it made you glad you didn't own a car.    
The idea of driving while being unconscious was very worrying to you.  
The fact that the next time that you woke up you were on a horse from the neighboring barn made you think that you may want to warn the neighbors about this. Wouldn't want to get shot by Mr.Kerry, him thinking that someone was stealing his horse in the middle of the night.  
  
  
The next time it happened, it was evening when you woke up.  
Figures, trying to fool your body by staying awake at night and sleeping through the day didn't work either.

  
  
You tried to travel in the direction you were usually sleepwalking in. Plains, plains as far as the eye could see, sometimes hills or a young forest. A full day's ride on Mr.Kerry's fastest horse revealed nothing and no one, and Google Maps showed nothing but grass and trees and hills in that direction for kilometers. After that...well, after that, the coast began. So was your soulmate living in a coastal city or town? That had to be it, right?  
  
So you decided to stay the night in the city near the ocean and see what that would reveal.  
And as much as it would be nice to find someone who was apparently, _supposedly_ destined for you, getting rid of the sleepwalking was your first priority.  
That night, you paid the special service that gives you an agent to watch over you while you sleep(like sitting in the room next to you, waiting for you to sleepwalk, not as creepy as it sounds) and went to sleep in your hotel room.  
Nothing. Well, might as well explore the city, you thought. Your agent was happy he'd get to have another day's pay.

  
  
The next night you awoke...in a field. Back on the plains.  
The moment you woke up and turned around, your agent gave you the camera he was recording you on.  
So now you were walking towards where your friends' house was.  
  
But there is nothing there, you thought as you later once again looked at the satellite map of the area between the house and the city.  
What the hell?  
So where was your soulmate, then?

 

  
  
  
*******  
  


 

  
  
The first time it happened to the Decepticon leader, no one even thought to stop him from taking a late walk on the plains that the Nemesis hovered above.  
When he awoke, he found himself standing in the center of a field, nothing but grassy plains around. This was unthinkable. He, Lord Megatron, was sleepwalking. In a particular direction no less. Oh scrap, he couldn't deal with the appearance of a sparkmate right now. Checking the surrounding area, he immediately realized that his sparkmate was most probably human. Even more baffling. Additionally, his 'walks' posed a threat as any human who happened to be in the area could spot him. Megatron had no idea if humans had a habit of strolling through fields in the middle of the night, but it would be a bother to go destroying farms and towns in the area to make sure that no one, indeed, saw him.

  
  
Returning, he instructed Soundwave that he would tell the Communications Officer when he was about to recharge and when he woke. If he was to make any attempts to leave the ship between those times, he was to be stopped.  
Easier said than done, however. He was _Megatron._  
When he woke up after sleepwalking the next time, he was in the field again. Back on the Nemesis, dozens of Vehicons required Knockout's medical attention after trying to stop their leader.

  
  
"Master, wouldn't it just be easier to find them?" Knockout whined while fixing a mech's dislocated arm. A low growl made the medic shut up.  
Ok, different plan.  
Next time, it was Soundwave himself who stood in Megatron's way. The spymaster continued opening Groundbridges to the warlord's own quarters at the last second, making him walk into them and start his journey once again all night.  
After three straight nights of this, however, Megatron noticed that his Communication's officer, stoic and capable as he was, was becoming exhausted. Soundwave being the only mech the warlord considered a friend, Megatron thought of a different plan.

  
  
He just wouldn't go into recharge.  
He was a warrior, a warframe, he could take not recharging for longer periods of time and then sleeping for an hour or two, his loyal Third-in-Command tasked with waking him via installed shocker if he started to sleepwalk.  
  
That was a very, _very_ bad idea.  
The warlord became increasingly aggressive and nervous after a week of such a regimen, in turn making all the inhabitants of the Nemesis nervous and unfocused.

  
  
_Fine,_ he thought. He would find his sparkmate if only to make this madness stop. To bad for them, though, because he'd have to kill them - Megatron couldn't let such a glaring weakness exist.  
He tried not to go into recharge as long as he could because he knew that his recharge time would be longer then. Then, when his frame was making him almost collapse to the floor, he let himself into his berth and closed his optics.

  
  
....  
  


  
  
When he awoke, he saw the rising sun. The wind made the tall grass look like green waves running across the plains that surrounded him, partially reflecting the gentle early sunlight.  
He wasn't standing, he realized. He was sitting, holding something in his servos, cradling it to his spark with a care that he didn't show anything in his entire life.  
His spark skipping a beat, he looked down. His gaze was met with smart, beautiful e/c eyes looking back at him. The human in his servos seemed to be awake for a while, at least enough not to show signs of shock anymore. The wind gently played with their h/c hair, stray locks catching rays of sun and gleaming.  
He looked at them, for a moment forgetting that he was about to kill this creature with his own servos. He just looked at them, a strange sadness almost visible in his optics.

  
"Good morning," the human spoke and - Primus, why are you so cruel? - their voice was _the voice_ , the voice that his spark called out to in return, "I think we need to talk."

  
  
His servos twitched, sharp, dangerous digits now closer to the human.

  
  
  
  
*****   A Year Later   *****

 

  
  
  
  
You only saw your soulmate about five times, your first meeting included. You would speak then he would leave for usually more than a month. You accepted that your soulmate was someone whose views you would never share and although the bond that connected you screamed at you that things were happening and you had to be near him, your mind was already made up - his fight was not your fight, his cause was not your cause.

  
  
Then, one day, agonizing, unimaginable pain surged through you, leaving you feeling like you were hollow on the inside.  
Megatron died. The realization made you quit everything, take a job that you could do from home and move. Move far away, somewhere where there was only you. It was easier to deal with the pain that way. You hadn't even known the mech that well, you were never that close, but each time you remembered his thoughtful tone when he talked to you and how his crimson optics looked at you, tears would fall from your eyes and it was unimaginably hard to breathe.  
  
You lived in the country for a while now. More like the middle of nowhere, even. This was the only place you were sure no one could disturb you. The place was also very similar to where you first met, your soul wouldn't let you pick anyplace else.

  
  
When you woke up in the middle of the night screaming from the pain that burned through your heart and soul, you didn't know what to think. Megatron was dead, how could he be in pain?! The pain was replaced by a sence of overwhelming dread, a worry so great that you couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't think of anything else but the fact that your soulmate was alive but it probably would have been better if he wasn't, because he was in agony.  
Then, it stopped. It wasn't followed by the pain of losing one's soulmate, it was just...gone. By that point, you were mostly sure that you had gone insane. Was Megatron dead? Alive? You didn't trust the things your bond was whispering to you, it was too confusing.  
  
  
Then, five months ago, he sought you out and approached you when you were taking a walk through the woods. You weren't sure which one of you looked worse, but after everything, the first thing you did was lead him into a huge barn built by the previous owners and just let him sleep there and let yourself sleep while cradled in his servos.  
After that, he told you what had happened.

 

  
_A lot_ has happened.

 

  
  
He had died. He came back to life. Was possessed. Was tortured by an entity of far greater power. His mortal enemy and simultaneously his brother sacrificed himself to restore their planet. After being tortured, he'd realized how much suffering he himself brought, how far he had strayed from his original dream. He disbanded the Decepticons. He exiled himself from his homeworld.  
And he came where his spark guided him. To you.

  
  
That was five months ago and now you knew much about his life. Much, but still not everything. You were the one to insist he take his explanations and confessions slow. You needed time to think about the things you learned and he needed to take his time with remembering and coming to terms with what he had done.  
You allowed him to stay after contemplating it for a long while. He had nowhere else to go. He _deserved_ to have nowhere to go.

But you allowed him to stay if only to let him have a place where he could think about his actions while staying away from both humans and cybertronians. For the humanity's and cybertronian-kind's sake. You allowed him to build a hangar of sorts under the barn, where he stored the Energon he had collected in various Earth-mines and built a berth that looked more like a coffin to your eyes. There was even a lid on it and soon you understood why. It was a stasis pod. Megatron had put his body in a stasis pod, opting to use a smaller, human-sized holomatter avatar while he lived with you. While his holoform, both human-looking and natural-looking, still possessed enough strength to easily lift you and snap your neck, it did feel less intimidating. In this form, you even allowed him to stay in the house. In the guest room. It was shocking how much humility and appreciation he showed when you did that. Apparently, he was expecting to live in the barn. You told him that you hoped that the kindness that you showed him in his darkest time was something that he one day may show others. Soulmate or not, you treated him coldly. You would listen to him, you wouldn't offer him excuses for his actions. In a way, you felt, he was thankful for that too.  
Needless to say, knowing who and what your soulmate was, it was difficult for you to let him close to you, both emotionally and physically. Hell, he was so overcome with remorse and guilt that he didn't make any attempts to do so, to ruin you like he ruined everything he touched.

  
  
You did talk a lot, however.  
He had a lot on his mind and a lot weighing on his spark, and never was that so apparent as when he was in his human-looking avatar. Megatron wasn't old, but oh did he look old and worn. His red eyes were bottomless blood-red lakes of tiredness and guilt and haunting memories, and when he spoke his deep voice was mostly either thoughtful, remorseful or just plain sad. His eyes seemed to brighten only when he looked at you or when you spoke to him, and even then he would often catch himself, and whatever thoughts came to him quickly dragged him back into the darkness that was his regretful, broken state. He would often look at his hands or servos, depending on his form, and rarely did you see him looking in the mirror without his gaze becoming heavy with disappointment. Disappointment in himself.  
You talked often and over these talks, be they while walking through the field in the morning or sitting at the table near the little soothing light of a candle in the evening, you grew to really know Megatron. In a way, Megatron himself got to know himself again.

  
  
With time, as gentle spring flowers that had bloomed in the plains when he first approached your new home wilted, replaced by colorful summer ones, you started to slowly believe in him being remorseful and let your guard down. With the first autumn winds blowing over the plains and sending a slight shiver through you as the two of you sat on the porch, watching the sunset, you covered his hand with your own when he had an especially difficult time acknowledging one of the things he did far into the war.  
The effect was immediate.  
The holoform glitched, leaving a two and a half meter tall mech sitting next to you and looking at you with startled red optics. He looked into your eyes, then at your hand, then back at your face. The former Decepticon lord looked like he wanted to tell you that you didn't have to do that just for him, but at the same time couldn't because the contact was like a lifeline for him. Your gaze was calm, accepting. Not of all the things he did, not yet,maybe not ever. But of him, of you trusting in his regret and his wish to work this out, to come to terms with himself. You would be there for him, to help him with that. And that was precisely what you told him. That left him speechless to a degree that all he could do was sigh brokenly, close his optics and hang his head, leaning slightly in your direction.  
It would be a while before he allowed himself to actually put his head on your shoulder. 

  
Now, five months after he came to your house, you couldn't help but feel that you felt fond of the mech. There was nothing you could do. You knew him better than probably anyone in the universe by now, you knew the horrible things he did, you knew the noble reasons he was starting out with, you knew of his regrets. His optics were the ones you craved to see when he went on long flights to clear his head, his voice was the one you longed for when you went on business into the city or even when you were awake at night with him being in the guest room or a walking around the first floor, sleepless, caught up in his thoughts and memories.  
And you knew he loved you. You saw it in his spark, whether you looked into red eyes or optics. You saw that he was adamant about not letting himself touch you or try to express his feelings, you knew he was sure he didn't deserve you or deserve to be loved. But sometimes, sometimes when he wasn't concentrated enough, when he was too sleepy from not recharging for days or was too happy to see you after a long trip, he would let things slip. Compliments, praises, confessions of how he treasured you. It simultaneously made your heart both swell and break every time.

  
  
  
It was early morning now, the sun had risen not twenty minutes ago.  
  
  
It wasn't always that you woke up early, but when you did you tried to go on walks. The mornings in the country were nice and the fresh breeze, carrying with it the smell of the nearby forest, was pleasant to the senses. You especially enjoyed getting out of the house and walking a bit before the sunrise and then watching the sun slowly appear from the east. It was calming and beautiful, it offered hope and the promise of new possibilities, it gave you the clarity and calmness that you then shared with your wayward soulmate.  
  
You walked into your house, your morning walk done. Quietly, you walked into the livingroom just in case Megatron was napping there. He had problems sleeping properly, so when he _did_ manage to nap, his holoform usually didn't vanish as it should when the mech's consciousness is fully relaxed.  
You knew him well, he seemed to have walked down from his room to the living room in the time that you were away and was now lying on the couch, his eyes closed, his so very human hands on top of his stomach. Making an effort to walk quietly and picking up a blanket as you walked by a chair, you carefully covered the slumbering man, looking over his features with sad, yet gentle fondness. You loved him, you thought, sighing quietly. You were about to walk away not to disturb his rare moment of rest, when-

  
  
A huge, strong hand caught your own left one.

  
  
Immediately, you looked back and his grip on you faltered and weakened. Megatron looked at his hand then at you and you saw that he was barely there, the last several sleepless nights having left his mind and holomatter avatar vulnerable. His eyes looked at you both in surprise and an unspoken plea, something that he wouldn't allow himself if he was completely awake.  
Slowly, not really giving any thought to what you were doing, you knelt beside the couch, looking at the former warlord the way you would look at him when you were ready to hear him out. His eyes never left your face, never lost that hopeful, almost desperate expression.

  
  
"Stay, please," he whispered so softly that the last syllable just slipped into silence, his hand still holding yours.  
Graciously, mercifully, you gently squeezed his hand, your gaze becoming warmer as you nodded. He gasped quietly, his eyes betraying his surprise that you actually agreed.  
"I will," you promised, your tone soft as you subconsciously wanted to lull the man back to sleep, "I will. Sleep, Megatron."  
"Thank you," he said, sighing in relief and closing his tired eyes.

  
  
As his breathing became more even and deep, you watched Megatron. He was someone who experienced pain and injustice, someone who then lost his path and became something akin to what he wanted to defeat in the first place. Someone who died, and then was brought to life only to experience suffering beyond imagination. Someone who realized who he had become and denied himself the one thing he truly always wanted - his restored home planet.    
You weren't like him, you thought, yet you felt a connection with him. Of course you did, you were soulmates even if you did your best to put that fact aside. And even if you weren't considering that...you needed him now. You knew he needed you, that was why he came to you in the first place, but you needed him too. You needed to see the affection in his optics, you needed to hear his voice, to feel his touch, to know he was there beside you. Above all, you wanted, you _needed_ to one day see him be happy.  
You soulmate was someone who was capable of terrifying things, but great things too. You knew that now and your mind was in harmony with your soul on that.  
You didn't notice how your eyelids grew heavy and when your head gently rested on his side, but sleeping beside Megatron once again felt heavenly, like nothing else in the world existed aside from this feeling of peace and security. The only thing that would make this better would be...

 

...

  
  
  
When Megatron came to, he felt warm and at peace. Then, he realized someone was on top of him, in his arms. And not just someone, but-  
His eyes snapping open, he looked at Y/n as he held his breath, tensing.

  
He didn't deserve- He couldn't-

  
  
The human in his arms stirred a bit and he wanted to say something, but his avatar's throat felt like it was dry and sore at the same time.  
"Shh, relax," he heard a soft, calm voice, "This is good."  
"I...I can't have this," he managed to say while it took all of his willpower not to hug them and hold them as close to himself as he possibly could without harming them,"I can't have you, Y/n."  
It was ridiculous how broken his voice sounded.  
His sparkmate's soft chuckle was both heavenly music and exquisite torture.  
"I decide who can have me," they said quietly yet with a calm confidence that didn't leave room for any dispute. Then, softer, they added,"You left everything you had behind. Everybody needs something to start anew with. You can have this, Megatron...You can have me."  
With a gasp that may have sounded pathetically weak if Megatron cared to think about that, he held Y/n in a loving embrace, holding onto them like a mech drowning, hiding his face in their hair while emotions too powerful to describe in words claimed his spark and mind.  
He just held them, deeply breathing in their familiar, lovely scent and thanking them over and over in hushed whispers, in his mind praying to Primus that this wasn't a dream.

  
  
It wasn't.  
What it was, was a beginning of something so beautiful that even the most stunning sunrise paled in comparison.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaah, it's not easy when your soulmate is a (former) mad tyrant.  
> I also just wanted a happy end for Megz after the end of the series :'(
> 
>  
> 
> Next is Ultra Magnus and that one is somewhat funny at least! :D


End file.
